


letters home

by isloremipsumafterall



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isloremipsumafterall/pseuds/isloremipsumafterall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's sixteen months between Porthos' first letter to her while he's away at war until the time he returns. Between then they both fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	letters home

**Author's Note:**

> So certain things at the end of season two don't happen, Aramis doesn't leave and Treville doesn't retire and Constance tells d'Artagnan no.

**January**

 

The garrison had was too quiet, it was something that Constance was all too aware of in the past few years since the Musketeers she had known had gone to war, leaving only the new recruits. There wasn’t any of Aramis’ teasing taunts to d’Artagnan as he trained, coupled with the younger man’s huff of anger, or Athos calling them both out on it while Porthos tried poorly to contain his laughter.

 

She hadn’t realized at the time how much she’d miss them but each year the silence grew more and more. Treville thankfully understood how she felt, nodding to her in the mornings while occasionally passing her a note that brought news of how they were doing in the front lines.

 

Her third year of staying in the garrison as a carer of some sort came with a surprise however: letters from the Musketeers.

 

Aramis’ talked about briefly about his nightmares, memories of Marsac and an old battle rising on his mind; it was squished between inane talks about his prayers and how perhaps he should have taken the chance to be a priest and a sly comment on how he missed the company of the gentler sex. She snorted and rolled her eyes at that.

 

d’Artagnan’s and Athos’ letters were both short, men who didn’t prefer to put their thoughts down onto papers. d’Artagnan’s awkwardly danced around her rejection of his offer for marriage and instead talked about the countryside which seemed similar to the places he had grown up in. Athos’ was full of sardonic tiredness, supplies not coming in properly and it was obvious it frustrated the man to no end.

 

Porthos’ came as the biggest surprise, being the longest letter and offering insights to all of their friends. He expressed his worry about the war and the cost this was taking on both Aramis and Athos, along with d’Artagnan who now seemed more homesick than ever before. He talked about the news scars he’d gotten, the pride leaking through the words but it made Constance nibble on her bottom lip with worry as some sounded far too close to being the end of Porthos.

 

_You, Monsier du Vallon_ , she wrote back, _need to be more careful. And do not think I missed that you did not tell me how **you** were doing._

 

The cold of January bit at her as she handed the letters she had written to the soldier returning to the front lines. She watched him go until there was nothing left to see but didn’t feel like moving back to her room just yet. She wondered if she should have sent some supplies with the solider, nothing like food but she could have scrounged up some blankets to send back with him as they would have been feeling the chill in the air worse than she was just then. She frowned at herself for not thinking ahead in that matter but vowed that next time letters came she’d see what it was the boys needed.

* * *

 

 

**February**

 

When the next batch of letters came it was just after the biggest snowfall they had gotten that winter, the streets of Paris were empty with everyone boarding themselves up in their homes. Constance took the letters with shivering hands and her thanks and made her way quickly back to her bedroom where she had a fire going.

 

Many of the new recruits were huddled around it, sniffling and looking at her with pitiful eyes so she didn’t force them out right away. It was clear there was room near the fire in the main hall of the garrison for all of them and Treville had given her a room with one when she moved into it.

 

She instead tried to read her letters in peace, quickly reading Aramis, Athos, and d’Artagnan’s letters which were filled with many of the same complaints and some requests for items that she made note of to send. Porthos’ was again a longer note from the others.

 

_Constance,_ (she noted that Madame Bonacieux had been scratched out heavily, barely legible and she laughed just a little)

 

_Aramis has stuck me on bed rest, seems to think it’ll help in the healing process. Charged into the field after Athos the other day, the man seems to think he can’t be killed now. You’d have called him an idiot several times over._

She rolled her eyes but was tempted to do just that in her return letter to Athos.

 

_To answer your question, I’m fine. Got a bruised jaw from Athos knocking me out so Aramis could stitch me up…_

The rest of the letter went on to talk about Porthos rooming with Aramis and hearing his nightmares but Constance frowned at the smudged ‘I’m fine’. It was short and simple and it should have comforted her to hear at least one of the boys out there was doing okay but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t being told the whole truth.

 

_Porthos,_

_Try giving Aramis some tea before he goes to sleep to see if that eases it all, I know you may think wine is an excellent choice but please do not listen to Athos in this regard._

_Do try to keep yourself in one piece, I believe you could give Aramis a challenge for the ladies but scars, while very handsome, are far too painful and I’d prefer if you were careful._

She hesitated on the sentence, squinting at it in the light from the fire and wondering if perhaps it almost sounded flirtatious. She was only trying to express her concern.

 

In the end she just let it be and continued to answer the letters and then set about to getting the supplies together to send off with them.

 

* * *

 

**March**

 

She was worried when the letters arrived that month so late, apparently the battalion had been ambushed at a point which prevented them from leaving the area for a time. Treville exchanged an uneasy look with her, both of them concerned, and he took the list of men who’d been lost with a heavy heart.

 

Constance promised to go with him to the homes, knowing how hard it was for him to tell the loved ones families the Musketeers had passed on and when she snuck a peek at the list she felt a little bad for being so relieved for not seeing her Musketeers names on it.

 

The letters she did get however were a little blood stained, apparently Porthos and Athos were out of commission so Aramis had written their letters for them and let them read them over to ensure he hadn’t ‘changed the words’. In this regard Porthos’ letter was shorter, with none of the information about the others that it usually contained, just a few small sentences instead.

 

_Constance,_ (she tried not to feel disappointed in seeing it in Aramis tight scrawl instead of the loop way that Porthos tended to write it)

 

_Don’t worry I’m still better looking than Aramis._ In the corner she could see Aramis had written ‘I beg to differ’. _The ambush took us by surprise and didn’t even notice the arrow in my side till I had passed out._

Constance groaned and muttered about idiots.

 

_If that makes you worry I’m sorry._

Maybe she wouldn’t quite call him an idiot in her return letter.

 

_I did take out a lot of the regiment beforehand though, got to be worth something, eh?_

She could just see him puffing up with pride at that and she dropped her face into her hands, taking a deep breath before writing back.

 

_Porthos,_

_I believe I said to take care of yourself, not get shot by an arrow and pass out. I’m sending Aramis some more thread to stitch you up with and maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll keep your wits about you next time. Please don’t worry me like this._

She went on to tell him about the new recruits training and her own continued training with the sword and gun as well as the King’s announcement for a new governor.

 

_He has a certain look in his eyes that worries me, the kind that thrives on power. It is the same look that Rochefort had the night he came to visit me in my cell. A man who thinks he can take everything and cares nothing about what gets cast aside in his wake. Some nights I dream that Rochefort wins, I can still remember the blood from Lemay’s death. It is nothing like your battles I know but it makes the nights colder to me._

She hummed, considering if she was saying too much but it was good for her to finally write it down. It was something she hadn’t even told d’Artagnan, their letters remained civil and she could tell he was still hurt by her refusal but she had needed to find herself and prove to herself she could survive first.

 

She wrapped up the rest of the letters and told Aramis to keep watch over Porthos and Athos, least she have to come down there herself and do it for him. She knew he’d respond that they’d welcome her company any day but it was still nice to offer. She wished she could send something to Porthos to make him feel better, knowing him he’d be far too bored in waiting in bed while the other returned to battle.

 

Before she could send her letters however she ducked out of the garrison, wrapped in warm garments with some extra clothes shoved into her bag and making her way down to the Court of Miracles. d’Artagnan had mentioned before that Porthos had grown up in that place, he’d told her the whole story on how they saved it and the woman named Flea that Porthos had said goodbye to.

 

She honestly wasn’t sure what she was thinking coming there but if there was anyone in Paris who knew what she could send Porthos to keep him occupied it would be that woman.

 

Finding her was a hassle, asking anyone on the streets got her strange looks and even trying to bargain with clothing didn’t work as she took pity and just gave the extras she had gotten away. She was about to give up when she noticed a blonde woman watching her curiously from the shadows.

 

Constance raised an eyebrow when the girl jerked her head and began to walk away, a signal that Constance should follow and she subtly made sure that her gun was in place before starting after the woman.

 

“I hear you’ve been looking for me,” the woman, Flea she assumed, finally said when they made their way into a house.

 

“If you are Flea then yes, I have.” Constance crossed her arms, “I’m looking for your help. Porthos has been injured.”

 

That got the other woman’s attention and all pretenses dropped.

 

“How bad is it,” Flea was frowning with her own concern.

 

“He’ll live to fight again and knowing that man, he’ll fight again before he ought to.”

 

Flea snorted and began laughing, “You know Porthos well then.”

 

“Not that well maybe,” Constance ducked her head, “I was trying to think of something to distract while he was recovering, but I’m not certain what could get his attention long enough.”

 

“I suppose alcohol’s out of the question,” Flea shook her head, smiling. She was quiet in thought for a moment and then, “A book on battle strategy perhaps.”

 

Constance smirked, “A subtle hint to not get hit?”

 

“Well if he takes it as such that’s his worry,” Flea seemed amused, “But Porthos always did enjoy hearing about battles of old.”

 

Constance inclined her head in thanks, thinking about the books Treville had and if she could get him to part with one for a time being.

 

“If you need any more help come back at any time.” Flea told her and then waved the scarf that Constance had left in her bag. “Thank you for this.”

 

She hadn’t even seen Flea take it and rolled her eyes, biting her tongue so she didn’t say anything else but a thank you and slipping out of the house and back to the garrison. Treville was convinced easily enough to part with a book when he heard about Porthos so she counted that off her list of things to do.

 

_Your friend Flea is very interesting, so is the Court of Miracles. I think I see where part of your stubbornness comes from now._ She added on to the letter to Porthos once she got, _It’s admirable, another part to the person that makes Monsieur du Vallon. I’ve included a book to keep you busy, Treville says you haven’t read it yet so I hope he is right. Stay in bed until you heal Porthos, do not go charging into a fight again._

 

Constance stamped the letters with the wax seal of the garrison and gave them to the courier in the morning, yawning and turning to prepare for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

**April**

 

Letters came late again that month, Constance tried not to worry by throwing herself into training and helping out around Paris with the food shortage but her mind still strayed to the Musketeers regardless. She took to stopping by to visit Flea every now and then and also visited Anne in the palace. She missed being Anne’s maidservant but Louis had sent her away, his anxiety towards anyone close to Anne was high after Rochefort’s effort no matter how much Anne tried to convince him otherwise.

 

With Louis paranoia in such high force it’d been easier for Feron to assure him that he would take care of Paris and as she passed him in the palace Constance had the urge to spit at him, settling only for a sneer, her mind on the death told that had come because he had held food from the masses over winter.

 

She was glad when the messenger rode in still, the letters on his side that she took gratefully and didn’t even wait till she was in her room to start to open. d’Artagnan had been hurt that time, he had a fever and Aramis was worried about it breaking for a while until it finally did. Athos had no letter, Porthos explaining that once he’d healed he’d been sent with a scout troupe up ahead.

 

_My thanks for the book, gave me ideas for our next fight if we can get the lieutenant to listen to us. The new on the king sent is an idiot. No common sense._

_I’m surprised you went to see Flea but glad you liked her. I’d still check pockets after you visit her again but I suspect you’ve learned that already. She’d be happy to help you learn a trick or two about that. Could be useful if this new governor is as bad as you say._

_About the Court, I know you can handle yourself but keep an eye out. Flea may be able to keep most of the men in check but should they attack I suggest you take out their eyes first, soft spots and then move from there. I don’t want you to get hurt._

_Also if they new recruits are bothering you then I have a move I taught d’Artagnan, they’ll sure regret dealing with you after it._ She squinted at the drawings Porthos had laid own and then snorted when she saw his so called move was one she had known for a long time.

_Sorry about the nightmares. Wish we could have gotten to you sooner, Constance. Maybe have killed Rochefort again like the rat he is. Makes me sick to think of how much he got away with. Watch your back Constance, Athos has heard whispers from the court that someone is plotting something again. If you can warn the Queen then do so but not at the risk of yourself._

_The other day we stopped in a town for supplies, little girl was there with hair not quite as red as yours. Made me think of you all the same._

_Stay safe._

_Porthos du Vallon_

_P.S. my wits are fine, dashing even. I’m cleared to go out to the field again tomorrow._

Constance tapped her fingers on her desk as she considered how to respond to the letter. It felt funny that Porthos was worried about her when he was the one being hit with arrows and fighting a literal war. At least he had understood her concerns when she expressed them, something she greatly appreciated.

 

_Flea has been telling me plenty of tales of your younger self and the adventures you, her and Charon went on. d’Artagnan mentioned your friend when he told me you had to go to the Court a few years ago, I’m sorry that you lost him after all that time. She still won’t tell me how you got that scar over your eye though, so you can be assured that secret is safe. I would like to hear why you thought throwing yourself into a barrel of fish was a good idea for a distraction however._

_Thank you for the drawings, they were…enlightening._

_The new recruits are nowhere worse than then you four, at least they don’t barge into my house at all hours of the day and drink my wine. Lately they’ve been getting into scuffles with the Red Guards. I hate those men Porthos, they are a mockery of what Parisians should be. They serve the new governor and have no regard for the people. The other day I slapped one when he was harassing a young girl in the market, the nerve of him._

_I’ll pass your concerns on to the Queen but you are right, the palace has been so tense as of late. I worry for our majesties._

_Stay safe yourself, as I continue to have to tell you, come home in one piece Porthos._

_Constance_

_P.S. try not to get hit this time._

 

She packed the letters from the Musketeers away in her little box and hid them under a floor board just in case.

 

Despite that Athos hadn’t written one she still wrote another reply to him, telling him to keep an eye on Porthos while in the field and not to lose his head himself. To Aramis she told him of a specific wine that seemed to knock d’Artagnan out every time he drank it, there wasn’t much that would keep d’Artagnan’s attention otherwise.

 

With a sigh she walked out of her room to give the letters to Treville as she would be spending the night in the palace with Anne. Paris wasn’t as cold anymore though there was a still a chill in the air. As she walked she imagined that she could hear Porthos’ boisterous laughter upon reading parts of her letter and the thought warmed her anyway.

 

* * *

 

**May**

 

_It’s a tale for another time,_ Porthos had written in regards to his scar over his eye and Constance huffed, she’d been hoping for an answer, _I’ll tell you when I return. Don’t believe a word Flea says, the barrel thing was her idea. I only listened because it seemed like a reliable plan at the time. Are you doing any training with her?_

_The Red Guards have never been honorable men, disgrace really. If you need to gather information on them there are several taverns in the middle of town that they frequent. Cards are an excellent way of gathering information but they won’t play with a woman, you’ll have to get one of the recruits to do it. They should learn anyway, wash the green out of them a little._

_I’d have liked to see you slap him, can picture it. Aramis winced when I told him, says it’s painful and that they should cross our wonderful Madame. Have to agree with him there._

_The enemy had canons of the battlefield the other day, Aramis and I took out one while d’Artagnan and Athos got the other one. Don’t worry I wasn’t injured this time but Athos has a burn on his arm that Aramis is treating._

_Been spending the nights with some of the younger boys in the battalion, they don’t quite know cards yet so I’m teaching them. Alcohol here is getting a little scarce, we’re also low on gunpowder. Athos thinks someone is stealing our supplies as they never arrived as promised with the right quantities._

_The flower I put in this letter is one that Aramis uses for cooking, nothing as good as you make but it’s decent. Just thought you might like it._

_Keep yourself safe,_

_Porthos_

_P.S. Aramis sings in his sleep. Thought you may find some amusement in that._

Constance carefully plucked the pressed flower that had fallen out of Porthos’ letter in between her fingers, there was only the faintest scent left to it but it reminded her of traveling to the countryside with her mother to visit relatives and the soft breeze that carried a similar smell.

 

It gave her an idea but she had to dig into her old chest to find it, one she hadn’t looked through since she’d thrown her things from Bonacieux’s place together after his death and left. They were things she wasn’t sure she’d need again but there at the bottom was crinkled papers from her mother.

 

She set them aside as she composed her letter to Porthos.

 

_I expect to hear that story now Porthos, do not think you can dodge me for it when you return._ She swallowed hard as she wrote ‘when’, there was no room for ‘if’s in this regard. _All though I will try to get it from Flea in the meantime. I can be very persuasive after all. I think I shall trust her word for these stories though, she told another interesting one the other day about how you tried to rob a duke and then wore his clothes to mock him._

_I am training with Flea, just so you know. She has been teaching me how to use a dagger properly against larger opponents._

_Treville stalks the taverns you mentioned, he is relentless to gather more information about Feron. I had to intervene in another fight the other day between the recruits and a Red Guard, he insisted he was just showing them how it was done but he broke the poor child’s jaw. I’m thinking they need retribution of some sort, something to humiliate the Red Guards in the same way they keep humiliating us._

_Don’t worry, there are plenty more people I am sure I will slap that you can watch on your return._ She paused in her writing, the ink dropping to make a slight splash mark on the paper and she tsked, _I miss you, all of you._

_If by spending the nights you mean cheating those boys out of their money then I have no doubt. Try not to get yourself caught. Athos has mentioned his concerns, I hope these stop soon._

_Over here we have stumbled into a problem, Treville saw the Queen and her latest advisor has been sent away. She desperately needs a new one who will be on her side and clever enough not to be caught but we are at a loss who to find._

_That flower you sent me used to grow by my cousin’s house. You reminded me of a recipe that she used to use with it for stew so I am enclosing a copy, it should be easy enough to make if you can catch rabbits._

_Thank you for it. It’s lovely._

_I believe those are my words, don’t get into more trouble than you can handle._

_Constance_

_P.S. I am not surprised to hear that Aramis can’t stop talking even in his sleep. What a burden for you._

Constance yawned into the night as she finished up her letters, putting them on the edge of her desk to deliver tomorrow and standing up to go to bed. She bumped her desk along the way and the orange flower fell to the ground and she quickly bent to scoop it up, resting it on her pillow as she got changed into her night clothes.

 

She forgot about it until her head hit the pillow and the faint smell tickled her nose again but all Constance did was move it slightly so it wouldn’t be crushed by her. She closed her eyes and smiled, dreaming that the Musketeers were home again to help her defend Paris once more.

 

* * *

 

**June**

 

Savoy was just as hot as Paris in the start of the summer, the bustle of the marketplace was certainly the same. Constance watched it all from her room at the palace that was attached to Anne’s. Treville had convinced the king to let her accompany Anne on this trip and it was nice to get away from Paris but she worried about the continued rise of fights between the garrison and the Red Guards.

 

She was also sad she’d be missing Porthos’ letter, and of course the other Musketeers. But she’d come to rely on those monthly messages between the two of them, talking to Porthos was relaxing and his suggestions were always welcome.

 

The Duchess of Savoy, Christine, was currently on a walk in the gardens with Anne. The two of them had their heads bent in whispers and Constance knew it was states secrets that Anne would tell her of later. She would have joined them if not for the fact that the Duke of Savoy did not seem to trust France all the same still and eyed her with disdain. It would have been harder for Anne to talk to Christine if she had joined them so instead she chose to stay inside and out of the heat.

 

“Savoy will be sending spies to France,” Anne whispered to her once they were in the carriage on the road home after two weeks of being there.

 

“Then that brings good news to us,” Constance relaxed slightly but Anne was still frowning.

 

“Christine worries that her husband means to keep some secrets to himself. She will attempt to find the original accounts as often as she can.” Anne sighed, looking exhausted and though it was unregal Constance let her fall asleep in the carriage, letting her own thoughts keep her company so Anne could get the sleep.

 

Once they were back at the palace and had told the King of their visit Constance was excused and she rushed back to the garrison. In her time of being gone they had lost two recruits who had finally had enough of the Red Guards attacks on them and packed up but they had also gained a few more recruits in their place.

 

Letters were at her desk when she unlocked her room and she tore into them. Athos once again reported his anger and suspicions that someone was working against them from within, d’Artagnan had picked up Athos’ anger and his own temper seemed to flare in the letters, Aramis thanked her for the recipe she’d given to Porthos and also requested more bandages and thread.

 

_I promise to tell you_ , Porthos had written, _word of a Musketeer. I’ve seen your persuasiveness, don’t know very many people who can distract a Red Guard from his post like you can._

 

The memory of the first time she had really worked with the Musketeers made her huff but she still hummed in consideration, perhaps the Red Guards could still be distracted by such manners if push came to shove and she could gather information on them that way. Flea would certainly help her with such.

 

_Didn’t I say not to believe Flea? I’m hurt Constance. Still glad to hear she’s been training you._

_The Red Guards are a mistake,_ she could see the anger in Porthos as he wrote this, _they don’t deserve any titles let alone the false ones they’ve been given. No man of true honour would join them. Treville won’t approve of it in the face of people but if you can get retribution he’ll be proud. We all will. Hope you have the crest of the Musketeers on you Constance because you truly are one._

She flushed, warmed by the words and had to stop for a moment, overwhelmed by the sincerity in them.

 

_The boys will have to learn these matters soon enough. I suspect Athos has told you all about his plans now, Aramis is going around to get information from everyone he can. When we find whoever is behind this there will be a thrashing._

_If the Queen needs a new advisor than I suggest you get in contact with a woman I know named Samara. She’s clever in pinch and wise, could help you out a lot._

Samara’s information was scribbled below that and Constance took it down to send a request to the woman later.

 

_Your recipe was a success here, filled everyone up nicely. Aramis tried to take the credit till I got him not to. If you have any more ideas for food we gladly welcome them._

_I can handle a lot of trouble,_

_Porthos_

She would have answered back right away but the day was draining on her and she was forced to go sleep. Her bed didn’t smell at all of the flower anyway much to her disappointed but she fell asleep anyway.

 

As soon as she was up she got to forming response to everyone and gathering the supplies that Aramis had asked for.

 

_The word of a Musketeer, now that is something. I may cherish it and hold you to that forever. My persuasiveness doesn’t appear to be working on you however if you are not telling me right away, I will just have to be hurt myself for that Porthos._ She bet that he could work out she was just teasing him, or at least hoped he would. She didn’t want him to think she was insulting him.

 

_It’s a shame that one of the finest Musketeers of all isn’t here to help me teach these Red Guards a lesson. I could use the help in that endeavor. Don’t worry I will find something to make them pay._

_I apologize for this letter being late, I was in Savoy with the Queen for a few weeks. The news there is mixed right now, I know you’ve had dealings with the Duke before and he still seems to want to hold his cards in his sleeve. I wish you were here Porthos, you could always gamble that against him to make him lose._

_If there’s a traitor in your midst they best be caught soon. Good luck in that. I’ll pass on Samara’s information to the Queen and try to get them in contact with each other, I trust your recommendation on this._

_I don’t have any more recipes right now but I will visit my mother to ask for some._

_You know what I meant,_

_Constance_

_P.S. If you could send me some more of those flowers I would appreciate it._

She didn’t add that they made her dream of Porthos’ and the others return and hoped he wouldn’t question it.

 

Treville found a recruit who’d been trained enough to go to the front lines and she handed her letters to him with her thanks and then made her way to the Court of Miracles to tell Flea of her return and discuss the matter of the Red Guards with her.

 

* * *

 

**July**

 

The others must have written back quickly because it was only a week and half after her last letter that a messenger arrived. She listened gravely as he bore the facts of a failed battle to Treville, staring at the letters in his hand and praying she wouldn’t hear that one of them – that Porthos – hadn’t been hurt again.

 

Her luck was out however when she opened the letter from Porthos and saw Aramis’ distinct writing. It wasn’t even dictated from Porthos this time as Aramis informed her he was recovering from a head injury and was fading in and out of consciousness the last few days but the doctors bet he would pull through.

 

She wiped the tears that had gathered in the corner of her eyes away and prepared to write back.

 

_Porthos,_

_I thought your head was thicker than this and I said to keep your wits in you. I expect a letter as soon as you are recovered but not one before that and don’t dare think of getting up to send me one or go back into battle._

_Just to keep you aware, Samara is on her way here, she was interested in what Anne could offer her people and the job. I look forward to meeting her._

_Flea and I have a plan to get back at the Red Guards and if it works I will keep you notified._

_My mother gave me some more simple recipes and sketched out what the flowers and herbs required for it looked like so I am enclosing them with this letter._

_Please get better Porthos._

_Constance_

She finished the other letters in record time, there wasn’t much information given that spirits were low after the losing fight and Porthos being hurt. At one point she chastised Athos for letting Porthos run into this situations head first even though she knew Athos had that problem as well. Still she couldn’t stop her worry from spilling out across the pages and shoved the letters to the side once they were done, grabbing her cloak to meet Flea and tell her the news of what had happened.

 

* * *

 

**August**

 

Her knuckles hurt where they’d been bruised and she was exhausted by the time she stumbled back to the garrison. It was dark enough that few noticed her or her hand, the recruits on guard nodded and saluted her as she walked by and she smiled thinly back.

 

Once she made her way into her room she dragged out a bowl and filled it was water from the bucket in the corner, getting a cloth to wet and rest over her hurt hand. She nearly spilled the water on the letters she hadn’t even noticed were on her desk until that moment.

 

It took some finagling but she managed to get them open to read them. Aramis’ informed her that Porthos was back up to fighting form and he appreciated the recipes she sent, though it had him pondering why she always sent them with Porthos’ letter and not his which she ignored. d’Artagnan’s talked about a girl he met on the road who lived in a village they were stationed nearby, he awkwardly explained that he was thinking of courting her and Constance smiled, a little sadly when she thought of what they could have been but happy for him nonetheless.

 

When she opened Porthos’ letter five pressed flowers came falling out and she smiled at them, laughing in delight as it made the letter smell just like them and she pressed it against her nose and imagined Porthos’ hands delicately picking them for her.

 

_I’m better now, back up to full strength again. Kept dreaming I was back in Paris with you and the others and you’d slapped Aramis again and you wearing that lavender dress you used to have._

She blinked and looked over in the corner in the crate where her old clothes were stored. During her time as Anne’s maidservant she’d had finer dresses and while in the garrison she wore just simple clothes as she got dirty often running around after the recruits. It had been a while since she’d put on that dress and she had the sudden urge to find her red chemise that went along with it. She turned her attention back to the letter however.

 

_d’Artagnan claims I talked between sleeps, about flowers. I hope you like the ones I sent. I remembered, see Constance, got my wits still with me._

_You and Flea done anything yet to the Red Guards then? Has Samara arrived?_

She laughed to herself, looking down at her bruised hand and knew it would be a pain to write with that night but also wanted to answer Porthos to tell him the story.

 

_Was tempted to write you before I was better just to see if you’d pull through on your threat. Would be nice to see you again Constance. Keep Paris safe till our return._

_Keep yourself safe till then too,_

_Porthos_

The fingers of her hand that weren’t currently bruised traced over his name and she smiled, chuckling to herself that she hadn’t exactly followed his advice that time.

 

_Dear Porthos,_ she began and then paused, it was the first time she had added the ‘dear’ there but she hadn’t felt the need to cross it out so she continued.

 

_You’ll be pleased to hear that Flea and I did something this very night as I am writing to you. We disguised ourselves as barmaids, the Red Guards at the tavern were so drunk they could not recognize me at all. You gave me the idea when you brought up our first working together actually. I plied them with more alcohol to loosen their tongues as Flea took every valuable from them._

_When they wake tomorrow they won’t remember a thing I suspect but we will be handing out their valuables in the marketplace for everyone to see the incompetence of the Red Guards. We even stole the captain’s jacket and plan to pin it to a roof, a show that they can’t even keep themselves clothed. It may appear small but I know there will be more retribution at hand._

_And speaking of,_ she hesitated a little on if she should tell him, _during the process I damaged my right hand. I was accosted by a Red Guard and hit him so hard he fell over the railing onto a table. He was fine and it merely started a brawl which was the ideal cover as Flea and I snuck out but in the process my hand has become quite bruised._

_Flea told me that if you were here you’d be showing me how to throw a proper punch for next time, I’m not certain why she wouldn’t show me how and I believe she is laughing at me about something Porthos._

_So you aware Samara will be arriving in two weeks, she was just putting her things together._

_I dream of your return to._

_Constance_

 

It felt like an odd place to end it but she shoved the letter in the envelope and addressed it to him before she could change her mind. Tomorrow she’d ask one of the recruits to take down her other messages so she could rest her hand, she decided and then picking on the flowers to rest on her pillow she went to bed.

 

* * *

 

**September**

 

Constance met Samara on a crisp morning in the garrison, she greeted the shorter woman with a bright smile and offered her her hand to shake; it had healed up since her encounter with the guards, only the barest hint of darkening in her skin from the bruise remained.

 

“Constance Bonacieux, pleasure to meet you.” She said and Samara slipped off the shawl she wore so it rested on her neck.

 

“Samara Alman. I was looking forward to meeting you as well. I was surprised when you contacted me.” Samara stated and she began to follow Constance as they walked through the streets of Paris.

 

“It was Porthos’ suggestion really, he knows his Majesty well and the Queen was able to convince him that an outside voice was what was needed. He will put you under a lot of scrutiny, as I warned you,” Constance frowned at that, “But her Majesty will have your side and should you require anything you can seek me or a woman named Flea.”

 

Samara nodded, digesting the information that Constance provided her, “I wasn’t certain on leaving my home but you provided me with quite a challenge. It will also be nice to have the Queen’s ear to discuss the situation between our countries.”

 

“The Queen is reasonable where the King has his faults, believe me.” Constance glanced around to ensure there were no guards around them, “What you’ll want to be wary of is the Red Guards and Feron.” She began to explain the history between them as they walked through the early morning streets of Paris.

 

When they arrived at the palace Constance requested the Queen’s presence and was quick in her introductions, she could see the lines around Anne’s eyes that were typical tight with stress relieve just a little and the gratitude she held when she took Constance’s hand was clear. Samara in turn looked grateful for the chance to have her voice heard and Constance made plans to fetch her after sundown so they could talk again.

 

“If Porthos’ letter arrives for me today is there any message I should pass on for you?” Constance asked, she had a feeling it would be coming, nothing concrete just that it felt like it was time.

 

Samara smiled, amused, “Ask him about the poetry and if he enjoyed it.”

 

Constance’s eyebrows shot up, “I believe I’ll ask you about the story for that later but I shall do so.”

 

Her walk back to the garrison was met with silence, it was still too early for Paris to be truly awake and Constance enjoyed it while she could. The recruits were up though in the garrison, Treville had them practicing their swordsmanship and he nodded at her as she walked in.

 

She chose to sidestep the recruits who were clearly out of form to practice herself at the shooting range while it was free and was loading up for her tenth shot when the messenger road in and she abandoned her training for the letters.

 

_I’d have given up a lot to have seen that. Did the governor do the same frown the cardinal used to when we made a mockery of his guards? Wish I could have been there, least to back you up. Does look like there’s still plenty of battles to fight at home when we return._

_I hope your hand is better, I remember the first time I threw a punch, messed up my hand for weeks. Charon wouldn’t stop laughing over it so I practiced hitting things till I got better. I’d recommend the same to you but I don’t want you to get hurt. I know you could handle it though. Too bad it’s not winter, you could use the snow to help the bruising._

 

_Flea is right, soon as I’m back we can practice, you and I._ Constance smiled at the paper, she had never thought of practicing hitting things as appealing before but if it meant that Porthos was back in Paris she’d spend all day doing it, he’d probably find that amusing.

_Athos thinks Aramis is close to finding the traitor. He’s busy in another camp so that’s why he didn’t send a letter but he told me to give you his regards. Told me a few other things too but I’ll let him say it so he’s the one getting slapped._

She rolled her eyes, just imagining what it was that Aramis had to say but still she missed them all.

 

_A woman we know arrived at the camp the other day, Lucie de Foix. I don’t know if you met her but she and d’Artagnan have been dancing around each other like lovesick idiots. I think you’d like her. Her father was the one who wrote to me about my father. Unfortunately that was the mission that brought us into contact with Rochefort. I regret that._

Constance couldn’t help but regret that too, even if in the end it had worked out all right she could live without the nightmares and the haunted look in Anne’s eyes. At least Anne had looked more peaceful with Samara’s arrival, hopefully that would help. She also made a note to tease d’Artagnan about Lucie in her letter to him.

 

_The last few days have been quiet, we won three battles and the enemy has been licking their wounds. Could do with some more wins like this._

_It’s getting colder so the flowers are started to fade, picked as many as I still could for you. The rest had to go to the supplies for eating._

The next few lines before Porthos’ name were scratched out and Constance squinted at them but couldn’t make out the words. He’d finally ended with:

 

_Be home as soon as we can._

_Porthos_

 

She quelled her disappoint that there wasn’t an end date and there was something lackluster in that reply and wished she could know what he originally was going to say.

 

_Samara arrived this morning by coincidence, she’s a lovely woman Porthos thank you for recommending her. The Queen looked relieved by her arrival and I left them to get acquainted but will be seeing Samara for dinner tonight. I look forward to getting to know her. She said to ask you how the poetry is going and if you’ve enjoyed it, something you haven’t told me Porthos?_

_Feron makes a face worse than the Cardinal I believe, he always appears like he has swallowed something that doesn’t suit right with him. I heard he was furious with what we did though. He expelled the old captain and has hired a new one. This one may be even more vicious Porthos. There are times I wish to just set their smug arrogance on fire._

_Treville has asked me to back off for a few days though, he is dealing with a lot of pressure from the King and if we can play our cards right we will have some more recruits this fall. He’s looking to send word to the countryside that we need more Musketeers._

_My hand has healed up nicely according to Flea and Treville, he scolded us both for it before he even realized he had no idea who Flea was. I still saw him smile slightly at the sight of that captain’s jacket however._

_I’ve heard about Aramis and d’Artagnan meeting ladies and yet none about you and Athos. Though I don’t expect to hear such things from him. Anyone caught your eye Porthos?_

She considered crossing that out, a weight in her stomach made her feel a little sick but something else in her said that she just had to know if Porthos was looking elsewhere.

 

_I’ll keep a light on for your return,_

_Constance_

 

* * *

 

**October**

 

Samara had taken to the court easily, she had no patience for fools and made that well known and every time Constance saw Anne the other woman looked more relaxed than she had been in a while. She was glad that things were going so well in the front.

 

When she’d introduced Flea to Samara they’d heard the story of why Samara had wanted to ask Porthos about poetry and while Constance’s heart remained in her throat when she heard how Porthos had been struck by an arrow she knew that he was all right. If only he would continue to remain that way but she also knew that there had been several more skirmishes on the battlefield.

 

“He’ll come back, he always does,” Flea drawled one day while they were pretending to be shopping in the market and watching the Red Guards. “Porthos has always been predictable that way.”

 

Constance caught Flea’s fond tone towards the end and froze, “You and he were in love once, right?” She tried to ask casually, glancing at Flea from the corner of her eye.

 

“Once, twice even.” Flea chuckled, “But our third time won’t be coming.”

 

Before Constance could ask what Flea meant by that the Red Guard moved and they followed him down the alleyway and through the streets of Paris in silence. They watched him stop at several houses for what appeared to be no apparent reason and marked those houses down as places to look into. They only broke their trailing at the end of the day.

 

“I’ve moved on,” Flea told her as the sunset, “And so has he.” Flea kept looking at her like there was something Constance should know but she couldn’t gather what. There was an enormous relief in her though to hear that that she pushed aside to question later.

 

Her trek back to the garrison was tiring but when she arrived there were letters waiting for her that made it all worth it.

 

Porthos letter started out with a lot of things scratched out across the page and if there hadn’t been such a limited supply of paper in the camps then she was sure he would have tossed it.

 

_Tell Samara I enjoyed what I read. Will never be a poet though, rubbish at it. If you don’t mind I’ve written her as well, could you pass on that letter?_

She raised her eyebrows at that and then it clicked that all those lines scratched out were an attempt at poetry. An attempt at poetry for **her**. She pressed her lips together but couldn’t contain the smile at all.

 

_Can’t believe there’d come a day where we’d miss the Cardinal. That must make him roll in his grave from wherever he is. Aramis says I shouldn’t take these things in vain but I’ve never been one for faith, I believe in things in front of me and in what I can do. There’s not a lot of prayer that can change that._

_Have you picked up more recruits then? Washed away the green in them? The ones Treville ends up sending here are better than usual, your doing I presume for which we’re all grateful. I thought you might warn them about cards but they foolishly played with me last night. Their loss._

_If you’re wondering why Aramis’ letter is missing again it isn’t because he’s at the other camp still, he got injured in the last battle this time and is on bed rest. Offered to take down the letter for him but his fever is preventing him from thinking straight. d’Artagnan has taken his place at the other camp to gather information. He also sends his regards and pleads that you stop teasing him. I say keep it up._

_That sounds like our Captain. I’ve read letters from him to that he sends to Athos, mostly on military positions and rumours of the enemy. We’ve gotten word from Savoy which helped us last battle so your request for that has paid off._

_The first snowfall came right after our latest fight, it’s helpful for the injuries but that means we’ll have to prepare for the cold and ration more of our food. I’m not looking forward to it and can already hear the grumbling from the others._

_There are no ladies here for me. My heart belongs in Paris,_

_Porthos_

Constance frowned that the cold and food shortage would start soon for them, she glanced over to her supplies that she frequently used to mend the clothing that the new recruits ripped. It would take some time to make something but perhaps if she was quick about it she could send it along with her next letter.

 

_I think your poetry is just fine, you’re better with words than you think Porthos. I will pass the letter to her but she and the Queen are busy with delegates for this past week. I have been helping where I can, we had to smuggle one out of the country when he angered the King the other day. A Duke Buckingham from England. He was quite taken with Anne and it did not go well as I’m sure you can imagine._

_Samara told us the story of you met, you must stop getting hurt Porthos. I do not enjoy hearing about it._

_I hope Aramis recovers soon, you’ll need all the help you can get. I’ll write a letter for him to read once he is well and if you can give another letter to d’Artagnan I would appreciate it. Tell Athos I would also like to hear more than just battle plans and I worry for his health as well._

_We have picked up more recruits, even younger ones. They seem to get younger every year and it’s breaking my heart to watch them be beaten by the Red Guards when they get cornered. This isn’t what the Musketeers deserve. I thought you could teach the recruits we sent your way that lesson about cards yourself, no help required from me._

_The snow has started falling here as well, there shouldn’t be a food shortage but I suspect that Feron will only be rationing it out to the people he thinks deserve it and will let many of our people starve again this year. We lost so many over the past few winters, they have been so harsh._

_If your heart belongs in Paris then you should come back to join it again soon,_

_Constance_

She signed it off and then began on the other letters, wishing Aramis a quick recovery and again teasing d’Artagnan at the request of Porthos. It was good for him anyway, if he brought Lucie back to Paris with him Aramis and Porthos would only tease him worse.

 

She stuck the letter for Samara in her bag to take to her in the palace tomorrow morning and would see if Samara could write back soon enough to send it with the others or if she should just send her letters off anyway.

 

Her pillow still smelled of the flowers slightly and once more she dreamt of Porthos’ return.

 

* * *

 

**November**

 

Constance had busied herself with her new project between everything else she was working on but by the time Porthos’ letter came she hadn’t finished and she couldn’t help but be disappointed she would have to wait till next time.

 

d’Artagnan and Aramis had sent letters this time but Athos’ was missing, apparently it was his turn to go to the other camp. Aramis was recovering but still got headaches from time to time and d’Artagnan had blatantly ignored her teasing to talk about his time in the other camp. Porthos’ was shorter than usual and Constance frowned, wondering if she had missed something.

 

_I’ll try not to get hurt, for you Constance._

_There are no more flowers left with the snow, I miss seeing them. They always reminded me of you._

_Since Athos is not here I will tell you that he is in better health than he has been before, he has taken to this fight as his new crusade. Every loss is hard for all of us but especially him now._

_Is there anyway the Queen can convince the King to force Feron’s hand? I’m sorry we are not there to help._

_I,_ the sentence began but again there were several scratched out words, _will return,_

_Porthos_

There was something about the words and how short it was that had her immediately concerned and she began to write back right away. Starting with, as she had been in her last few letters, dear Porthos.

 

_Porthos is everything all right? Please say you are taking care of yourself. I know you care for others greatly but know there are others here who care for your return safely._

She had almost written that it was her who cared but others seemed innocuous enough and of course Flea and Samara did care.

 

_I began to make something for you but I haven’t finished it so I will be sending it next time. Something for you to look forward to I hope._

_The Queen is doing the best she can to convince the King, Samara has had several meetings with the governor herself. She has become very frustrated with his lack of compassion and I cannot blame her. We often talk about how the men here are lacking, looks like all our good soldiers are where you are. If something is not done soon about it there will be riots in the streets again._

_There was a small one the other week, thankfully no one was seriously injured but it is a show of what’s to come. The governor has set up hanging stations across the city as a means to try to quell any future riots, just looking at them makes me ill. Flea thinks we should cut one down in the middle of the night and I cannot help but agree with her in these regards._

_In some better news my husbands cousin Fleur announced her engagement. Do you remember her? She was the one who was Ninon’s apprentice. You comforted me in her disappearance. I hadn’t expected to hear from her, I don’t hear much from Bonacieux’s family. They have blamed me for his death and ostracized me from certain parts of Paris because of it. I have only kept his last name now out of a spite to them. It was nice to hear from her still but I do not think I will attend the wedding._

_I hope this letter finds you in better spirits, I miss your smile._

_As I have stated before, return in one piece,_

_Constance_

 

She looked it over, sighing and hoping it was enough to wipe away whatever mood it was that had fallen over Porthos. Their past few letter though filled with some worry had been lighter and she’d been enjoying them and would have said the same from him.

 

At least she could finish what she had planned for him for next time, that might make him smile again.

 

* * *

 

**December**

 

Letters arrived late again that year and Constance was glad for the distraction. She’d finished the quilted blanket to send to Porthos and dug up some more blankets for the other boys, ignoring that they weren’t as fancy as the one she had made. She’d be stuck inside thanks to the snow for more of the month, including being out sick for one week and then taking care of Flea in turn when she got sick. Most of the recruits had caught something and she’d been running around helping them out as well.

 

The only good thing about the cold was it meant that the Red Guards didn’t feel like going outside either, but the food was still short in supply and Constance gritted her teeth at every sad face she saw in the market who had lost a loved one.

 

She was relieved to see that Porthos’ letter was longer this time and he appeared in better spirits.

 

_Apologies for having worried you, winter nights make me a little cranky in Aramis’ words. Being out in camp reminds me of too many nights where we couldn’t find shelter. I look forward to whatever it is your sending, you didn’t have to but I appreciate it._

_Sounds like Samara has her work cut out for her, I think she can handle it nicely though. I wish you all could be here at times to help us root out this traitor as we have lost two more supply shipments and Athos stormed out of his test. I don’t blame him, I was furious too, hurt my hand slamming it into the table. I don’t like to believe one of our men could do this but the evidence is too much. Aramis found forged logs the other day so that ought to lead us to a new direction._

_I miss the riots of Paris, nothing like a good brawl. Sad it’s because of the food shortage though, that isn’t right. As the betting man I am I think our thefts may be related. Could be this new governor placed someone in our camp. It’s an idea I plan to run past the others._

_Congratulations to your ex-husband’s cousin, I do remember her briefly. You don’t deserve that from them though, if anything they owe you plenty. If I have to remind them of that upon my return I will._

_Your letter did make me smile again. It’d be nice to see yours too._

_I think now I need to warn you to be in one piece as well upon my return, fair’s fair._

_Porthos_

She snorted in amusement at his parting words but given the close calls she and Flea had had perhaps he wasn’t too far off the mark in that warning. Still she could tease him plenty over it.

 

_Then my gift will help, the one with the marking of the fleur de lis is for you, the others you can spread around the camp to help everyone keep warm. You’ll know what I mean when you open the crate._

_This traitor business sounds like a hassle, but in thinking about that our two situations may be connected I suspect you are right. I’ve watched him give out food more than is allotted for to the nobles and wondered where he may be getting such high stocks, if he is stealing them from supplies meant for you then it makes sense. Flea and I will continue our searches here for more evidence. In the meantime I have suggested to Treville that he send a Musketeer with the caravan of supplies, I know this was originally vetoed by the King who didn’t want to waste a soldier but the Queen has talked him into it. Hopefully this will mean less supplies taken from you._

_You would miss a good brawl, don’t you worry they’ll be plenty still when you’re back. I’ll hold the fort for them in the meantime._

_I can handle it Porthos, besides, they did lose their son however horrible he was to me at points. That loss must still hurt. Several men have tried to offer me a place with them including some of the Red Guards, I’ve merely scoffed at them. It is still hard at points with people staring at me like I am a pariah for being a widow, I refuse to let them see that however. It is easier since living in the garrison. Flea teases me about taking up one of their offers but_

She paused there, wondering how best to put it. Now that she was thinking about it she couldn’t imagine any place she’d rather be than in the garrison, except for nearby Porthos and her friends. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d come to miss them and with Porthos’ letters she’d begun to picture more and more his return and fighting alongside him. Living alongside him.

 

With a heavy swallow she scratched out her last sentence and let it be. Porthos didn’t need to know about all of this after all.

 

_Then when you come back we can both be smiling again._

_Now now Porthos, I am not the one charging canons on the battlefield. What have I said about wits?_

_Constance_

She stretched first before finishing the other letters but her eyes kept drifting to where she had scratched out the sentence in Porthos’ before she huffed at herself and stuffed it in an envelope so she wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

 

The next morning she got two recruits to put the crate of blankets she had gathered – with one homemade – and watched the messenger leave before getting ready herself to head out for the day.

 

* * *

 

**January**

 

Her entire side hurt, that was all she could think of. She was aware of Flea above her yelling her name and then another voice – Samara? – but couldn’t focus on them. Someone was groaning in pain and it took her a while to realize that it was her and then there was darkness.

 

When she woke she was in her bed and Samara, Flea, and Treville were all there.

 

“What happened?” She wasn’t sure the words formed all that well together but tried anyway. Flea came over with scoop of water for her and she swallowed it greedily.

 

“You decided that getting between a boy and horse was an excellent idea.” Treville said, he sounded both angry and concerned, “An idea I expect from my recruits who are far less sensible than you.”

 

“If I did it then it must have had sense,” Constance shot back anyway and then remembered, the new captain of the Red Guards was circling a child in the square while on top of his horse, promising to make an example of him.

 

She’d forced herself through the crowd and grabbed the reins, pulling him away and then the rest was all a blur.

 

“You broke your ribs,” Flea told her, making a face, “Bed rest for you for quite some time.”

 

“Is the child-”

 

“He’s fine,” Samara assured her, “One of the recruits took him home.”

 

“And what happened to the captain?”

 

Samara and Flea exchanged an amused look and Constance furrowed her brow.

 

“You dragged him down,” Flea snickered, “Right into the mud. Gave him quite the scar on his cheek as well.”

 

“Serves him right.” Constance muttered.

 

Before she faded off again she could hear Treville mutter something about how he didn’t need this.

 

Samara was reading something when she woke next but Constance still felt like everything was spinning around her and the words meant nothing. She vaguely heard Samara calling her name but then nothing.

 

* * *

 

**February**

 

As it had turned out she’d had a head injury that had gone unnoticed by the doctor, for three weeks she could not focus right and it was only in early February that she felt she could answer letters again.

 

Porthos had sent two letters, one answering her first one and the second demanding if she was all right after Samara had answered his letter explaining what had happened.

 

_Looks like you were right to warn me after all then,_ she started her reply with after the customary address of his name, _I’m sure that Samara has told you I am all right now, she sent her letter off the other day but Treville has agreed to send another recruit with my own when I am done. I think he feels guilty for what has happened though it is of no fault from him._

_I am recovering well, I can move around easier now and the doctor has claimed that in another three weeks I shall be at peak health again._

_I noticed in your last letter that you had found more evidence of the traitor, I do hope that means you are getting close. Flea has been investigating without me when she is not here to help me, she thinks that the chest in Feron’s room will hold the answers we are looking for and is trying to find a way to get in there unnoticed. When I am back to health I will help her again._

_I’m pleased that you have enjoyed the blanket so well,_ what Porthos had actually written down was it smelled like home and Constance flushed at the thought, knowing full well it just smelled like her, _I was hoping you would._

_Since I am on bedrest I have been helping to mend things more, I am sending you some bandanas that I have made as well._

_I’m sorry this is short but I am beginning to feel tired again and will end it here. Do not worry I will be fine. I do plan on being here when you return Porthos so I won’t be going anywhere._

_All my love,_

_Constance_

She froze as she finished writing her name, staring at the goodbye. She glanced back over his last letter of which he had ended it with ‘ _I’d like to come home to you’_ and decided that she didn’t regret her ending. Constance took a deep breathe which pulled on her ribs but she began laughing anyway.

 

She regretted nothing and could only hope Porthos felt the same.

 

Dizzy with exhaustion and exhilaration she set the letters at the end of her desk for a recruit to take down for her and let herself fall asleep with a smile.

 

* * *

 

**March**

 

Treville knocked on her door late in May as Constance paced in her room. Earlier that day she had snapped at a recruit for his sloppy footwork and everyone had noticed it. She was on edge from the four weeks with no letters from Porthos or any of the others.

 

“Has there been word?” She asked before Treville was even in the door.

 

He looked at her sadly and Constance felt colder than any day she had all winter.

 

“Constance,” He began but she cut him off.

 

“No.” She shook her head in denial, balling her hands into a fist.

 

“Constance,” He said again, looking even more apologetic, “The battalion has gone missing.”

 

“Missing?” She hissed out, her hands now shaking and her nails dug into her palms, “How does one lose a battalion?”

 

“The camp was empty, no one knows where they have gone.” Treville scrubbed his face with his hands, “There was no sign of struggle however…the King is….he is declaring them traitors.”

 

Constance went stock still for a second, “He’s wrong. Surely he must realize that. That camp was full of his most loyal Musketeers. He must be sending someone after them!” Her voice rose towards the end but cracked slightly before she found her ground again, “I’ll go after them.”

 

“You will do no such thing,” Treville sighed, “I’m am confident that Athos and the others know what they’re doing.”

 

She snorted in derision, “Those four couldn’t plan their way out of-” Whatever she was about to say got lost in her sob as it hit her. Porthos was missing. Her friends were missing.

 

She fell to her bed and Treville knelt down beside her but she shook him off and he left sadly. She tried to stifle her cries as best she could but the fact hit her with every ragged breath she took and she hugged herself, trying to take comfort that Treville was right. Chances were they were alive out there and could survive, could come back.

 

With a single thought she ran to her desk and scribbled down something on a piece of paper.

 

_Come back you idiot, I love you._

 

It lay on her desk gathering dust as the day passed, there was nowhere to send it after all.

 

* * *

 

**April**

 

She tried to move on as best she could, throwing herself into helping the new recruits and finding evidence that Feron was corrupt.

 

With the warm spring weather she pulled out her old lavender dress more often, dusting it off. She’d placed the pressed flowers that Porthos had sent her in between the creases of her skits and it had only the barest hint of them that she knew would fade soon but if she closed her eyes she could pretend it was still there.

 

Every day she told herself they would be coming home, looking towards the gates of the garrison and nearly screaming at several points that Porthos had promised her.

 

Anne had done her best to convince the King that the men were not traitors, there were after all reports of a group attacking enemy soldiers on their routes which could be them. Every time Constance heard of such attacks she liked to pretend it was but had no idea why they would break away from their camp to do such a thing.

 

She felt like she was missing something and kept rereading Porthos’ and the others letters to try to piece it together. She felt like she was going mad staring at the words.

 

Finally she and Flea had a breakthrough towards the end of the month, Constance had distracted a guard while Flea snuck into Feron’s room when Samara had called him into a meeting and they had discovered papers of payments he had sent to Spain and England and notes to Red Guards in his patrols that he had stationed at Musketeer camps.

 

Treville was looked the happiest that Constance had seen him when they passed the notes to him. The seal was undeniably the Governors and the proof was right there before them.

 

“You have no idea what this means Constance,” He told her, squeezing her shoulder in thanks. “I suggest you don’t go into town the next week, lay low while I present this to the King.”

 

“If by lay low he means one night of celebration at least then I’m in,” Flea muttered next to her and Constance elbowed her to keep her silent, nodding at Treville.

 

She kept at the garrison like he’d asked her, practicing her sword work and aim with the gun, and was doing such the day it happened.

 

The day that Porthos came home.

 

Constance saw them right away, at first thinking it was a mirage and then realizing that the recruits around her were cheering.

 

Porthos caught sight of her, wearing her lavender dress and red chemise and he grinned so widely that Constance’s heart felt like it skipped a beat.

 

She didn’t think before she was running towards them, her arms flying in the air to wind around Porthos’ neck and she didn’t care that metal parts within his leather jacket felt far too cold against her face, she just breathed in deeply and let herself know this was real.

 

His hands came up awkwardly after a second and crushed her to him, his face burrowing in his hair.

 

“One piece and all,” He chuckled near Constance’s ear and she pulled back laughing but with tears in her eyes that she wiped away.

 

“Suppose you think that excuses not answering me for two months.” She put her hands on her hips and was aware that Athos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan were watching them not so subtly. “I demand an explanation Porthos.”

 

He looked a little sheepish and it was only then she spotted the flowers he had in his hands, the same orange ones he’s picked and sent for her.

 

“Found them growing again,” Porthos said when he noticed her staring and then presented them to her. She took them with a smile and closed her eyes to smell them before peeking up over the flowers at Porthos again.

 

“Still waiting.”

 

Porthos shuffled, “Was Treville’s idea.” He muttered, “We found the traitor in the camp, he explained that the trade routes were where the messages were being passed. Treville thought if we were unmarked technically then any traders we attacked to get information from couldn’t be traced back to France.”

 

Constance’s mouth fell open and she shot a glare between the boys, “And you all agreed to this? That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard from you lot. Again.” She frowned. “No wonder you all keep getting hurt.”

 

They all looked chastised by that and the other three muttered something about unpacking and slipped away under her glare, leaving only her and Porthos.

 

Her anger faded quickly at that and she sighed, “I suppose I should just be glad you did stick to your promise.”

 

Porthos smiled at her, something slow, not his usual wide grin and she made note of it, promising to learn every smile he had now that he was back. How had she never noticed how handsome it made him look before?

 

“Did you mean it?” He asked quietly and she looked up at him in confusion. He cleared his throat, “All your love.” He quoted from the last letter she had gotten to send him.

 

Constance nodded, her eyes catching Porthos’, “If that…if that makes you uncomfortable or you don’t feel the same-”

 

Porthos’ laugh cut her off, “The same? Constance how could I not?”

 

Her eyes widened, “You mean that?”

 

He raised his hand, pushing back some of the curls from her face and she leaned over just slightly to press a kiss to his palm, watching his face brighten immediately.

 

Then they were both moving, she reached up as he leaned down, the kiss was gentle and slow but the passion behind it remained the same.

 

“Welcome home,” She told him, her one hand still holding the flowers from him and the other caressing his cheek.

 

“It’s good to be back,” He intoned, looking nowhere beyond her and just for that she kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> a thousand thanks to everyone who's supported this tiny ship.


End file.
